You Leave Me Breathless
by Aspermoth
Summary: Chase hasn’t shown up for his first day of work since his suspension ended. House is interested in exactly what is wrong. And when House is interested in something, or somebody, that somebody is not going to escape from him. Light slash. ON HIATUS.
1. Sick

**Title:** You Leave Me Breathless

**Summary:** Chase hasn't shown up for his first day of work since his suspension ended. House is interested in exactly what is wrong. And when House is interested in something, or somebody, that somebody is not going to escape from him.

**Time Frame:** Between 'The Mistake' and 'Deception'

**Pairing:** Chase/House

**Author's Note:** Jesse Spencer looks miserable on the box of Season Two, don't you think? Well, I do so I decided to write a story where he is depressed. And why not make him sick as well? And then it rather grew... and grew... Well, you get it. I am going to continue this into a variety of short sequels to bumble through the rest of Season Two with a House/Chase relationship from this point while carefully avoiding most of the content of the episodes to focus on the relationships. Just to warn you. Like I said, it grew...

**Disclaimer:** Be forewarned of boy/boy. Sorry if it offends you, but I just can't help myself. Also, I do not have any ownership of House nor do I have permission to use the characters. I'm just doing it anyway, but I'm not profiting, so it all evens out. Thank you.

* * *

House pauses in the doorway, a frown creasing his forehead.

"Where's Chase?" he asks. "Isn't this supposed to be his first day back?"

Cameron doesn't reply; she just looks non-specifically uncomfortable where she's sitting in her chair. Foreman, on the other hand, stands up to face him. House manages not to roll his eyes. He hasn't felt anything _this_ hostile since Stacey's husband left. Honestly, the testosterone.

"Chase called in sick," the neurologist reports. "Said he had a bad case of the flu."

House limps in, fumbling for his Vicodin, the frown still as present and still as pronounced.

"Chase had flu last month," he begins. "He still came into work and we had to put up with him sneezing and popping Tylenol for a week."

"You pop Vicodin-"

"He's just sicker this-"

Foreman's protestation about House's hypocrisy and Cameron's justifications for why Chase could have flu this time mingle and turn into gibberish in House's ears as he swallows a pill. Having done this, he proceeds to interrupt.

"The point is," he says loudly, "that Chase is a workaholic and he would not stay home unless he is really sick."

Cameron shuts up, as House intended, but Foreman retains the defiant stance that superior power always gives a former subordinate.

"If Chase is sick, then that's his problem. We have a patient to diagnose."

"Yeah," House agrees.

He runs his eyes over the list of symptoms that Foreman (who has obviously stolen privileges) has written on the whiteboard before rolling them in their sockets in exasperation.

"Do I need to do everything around here?" he demands. "How old is he?"

"She," Cameron corrects.

"He, she, the pronoun is relative. Give me the _age_."

"She's twelve, why does it matter?" Foreman demands.

House sighs.

"Was she vaccinated?" he demands.

Cameron grabs the child's medical records, then shakes her head. House nods.

"Thought not. She's got measles. Now can I go and check up on Chase, boss?" he asks, sarcasm directed somewhat obviously at Foreman.

Foreman sighs.

"If you really must," he concedes. "But as soon as you've checked him out and confirmed that he is being a pussy about influenza, get back here before Cuddy gets on my ass about you not doing your clinic hours."

House smiles with self-satisfaction and limps out of the room, feeling pretty damn good about getting his own way even though Foreman objects to it. He limps progressively through the hospital to the parking lot, clips his cane into the grip on his motorbike, mounts it and speeds off into the wide blue yonder. Well, New Jersey. Seven broken speed limits later, he arrives outside the apartment block where Chase lives. On the top floor, of course. Awkward little wombat. And the elevators are almost bound to be out of order.

Grumbling something about how "Chase had better be pretty sick or they'll be hell to pay", House limps through the door and pauses in front of some remarkably operational elevators. Maybe there is a God after all. He presses the button then boards the elevator, riding it to the top floor, before disembarking into the corridor to Chase's apartment. There's a doorbell next to (unsurprisingly) the door. House ignores it and whacks on the door with the handle of his cane instead.

There's no answer. House hits the door harder.

Still no answer.

Chase must be pretty sick if he can't even answer the door. But now House has three options. He can go on whacking the door until Chase drags himself out of bed to let him in (unlikely), he can slip the lock with a credit card (time-consuming but a lot more likely), or he can go back to the hospital empty-handed to Foreman gloating (pigs will fly before this happens). He sighs. Time to break out the credit card.


	2. Forced Entry

**Title:** You Leave Me Breathless

**Summary:** Chase hasn't shown up for his first day of work since his suspension ended. House is interested in exactly what is wrong. And when House is interested in something, or somebody, that somebody is not going to escape from him.

**Time Frame:** Between 'The Mistake' and 'Deception'

**Pairing:** Chase/House

**Author's Note:** Okay, maybe not _forced_ exactly, but still pretty illegal entry. House is a bit of a bastard for a while, but it's for a good cause and anyway, how's that different from the normal House? Also, to hell with the continuity. I'm gonna make stuff up. This series is officially going AU! Now go forth and read, please!

**Disclaimer:** Be forewarned of boy/boy. Sorry if it offends you, but I just can't help myself. Also, I do not have any ownership of House nor do I have permission to use the characters. I'm just doing it anyway, but I'm not profiting, so it all evens out. Thank you.

* * *

With a soft click, the lock springs open and Chase's door swings inwards. House allows himself a triumphant little grin and strides - well, relatively speaking - into Chase's apartment. First room is empty. After a quick round of one of the more obscene versions of ip dip, House chooses the door on the right. Another big clue is the sound of coughing from that direction. Bit of a hard thing to miss. House barges through the door, speaking very loudly as he does so.

"Rise and shine! Time to get into work!"

Fortunately, he's in Chase's bedroom, otherwise it could have been very embarrassing. Chase's bed is on the opposite side of the room from the door and Chase is lying on it over the covers on his side, staring at the wall with his back turned to House. He's wearing a pair of black tracksuit bottoms, nothing else; and his voice is wheezy when he speaks.

"Shut up."

Now that isn't like Chase. Normal Chase would be outraged that House had broken into his department. Even if Normal Chase had flu, he would still have that outrage. And that outrage is not there. House obligingly lowers the volume of his voice as he thuds quite loudly across the room and sits down heavily on the bed. He hears a soft gasp of pain from Chase. Oh dear, oh dear, this does not look good.

"Your head aches, which is why you object to the yelling," he says softly. "You're coughing. You're suffering from shortness of breath and your breathing is shallow. You're sweating, indicating fever, but you're also shivering, so chills. You winced when I sat on the bed, so I'm guessing that you have chest pain."

Chase doesn't reply, but he turns his head to look at House. House leans back to get a better look at the intensivist's face. Or, more specifically, at his lips.

"Chase, you're cyanotic," he murmurs. "Rust-coloured sputum?"

A pause. Chase drops his head back down onto the bed, then nods.

"Chase, you have pneumonia," House says firmly. "And pulmonary edema as well, I'm guessing."

"I'm fine," Chase wheezes. "It's just the flu."

"Your mouth says flu, your wheezing says edema. And flu does not turn your lips blue. Let me take your pulse."

Chase says nothing, so House presses two fingers against Chase's neck. Weak pulse.

"You have acute pneumonia," he says. "And I would bet anything that you have pulmonary edema as well. Pity I didn't bring my stethoscope. If you don't come into hospital, you're going to suffer respiratory failure followed by respiratory arrest. It's going to kill you."

"I... can't go," Chase argues weakly. "Can't leave."

"You don't think that you can get downstairs?" House asks.

Chase nods.

"Tough," House says. "The elevators are working. I'll take you to the hospital on my bike. Come on."

"Cya... notic."

House grabs Chase's face, turning it so that the younger man is staring straight into his eyes.

"It's only going to get worse if you don't get up now," he says loudly.

Chase winces at the noise, then nods. House stands up, wincing at his own leg pain.

"Get up," he orders.


	3. Touch

**itle:** You Leave Me Breathless

**Summary:** Chase hasn't shown up for his first day of work since his suspension ended. House is interested in exactly what is wrong. And when House is interested in something, or somebody, that somebody is not going to escape from him.

**Time Frame:** Between 'The Mistake' and 'Deception'

**Pairing:** Chase/House

**Author's Note:** Still being a bastard... and now we get... no, not cute. But as close to cute as House can get without being actually invested emotionally. And as to why he doesn't get a taxi, House can dodge through traffic on the bike and a taxi driver wouldn't ignore speed limits as I imagine House would ;)

**Disclaimer:** Be forewarned of boy/boy. Sorry if it offends you, but I just can't help myself. Also, I do not have any ownership of House nor do I have permission to use the characters. I'm just doing it anyway, but I'm not profiting, so it all evens out. Thank you.

* * *

Chase rolls over onto his other side then pushes himself into a sitting position, pausing to have a coughing fit that left him holding his chest, his face screwed up in pain. When he takes his hand away from his mouth, it's smeared with rusty red-brown. Chase gasps for air, breathless. His lips are a pearly blue-grey. House taps the floor impatiently with his cane. 

"Come on!"

"Think I'm... gonna... pass out," Chase forces out.

"Then I'll call an ambulance," House threatens. "Get up!"

Chase puts his feet on the floor, almost the model of compliance, and slowly stands up. He sways on his feet, leaning against the wall for support. House nods in approval.

"Follow me," he orders. "Forget shoes and everything else, you're going as is."

Chase nods too and the two of them make their painful way out of the apartment and into the elevator. As soon as the elevator starts shuddering down the building, Chase slides down the wall of the elevator coughing his lungs out. House looks away for a few moments, then slides his hand comfortingly into Chase's hair as the younger man gasps for air between the spasms of coughing. When the coughing stops, Chase leans his head against House's left leg. House looks down at Chase, not really comfortable with the physical contact, but doesn't say anything.

A few tears run down Chase's face. Tears of pain. House frowns again.

"If it hurts so badly, why didn't you go into hospital?" he asks.

"Took... Tylenol," Chase replies. "Took... edge off."

"And now the Tylenol is wearing off," House surmises.

He pulls his Vicodin out of his pocket and tips two pills out. One he takes himself. The other he offers down to Chase.

"Take this, it'll make you feel better," he mutters.

Chase obeys without question. House looks questioningly at him.

"No questions?" he asks. "Vicodin slows the pulse. Your pulse is already weak. You could pass out."

"Hurts."

House nods.

"You know your painkillers, I'll give you that," he says. "Get up. You're going to walk out of here."

Slowly, painfully, Chase struggles to his feet, leaning his back against the wall as his bare chest flutters shallowly in and out as he breathes. House feels as though he can practically hear the crackling of Chase's lungs with every breath. What an idiot. At that moment, the elevator pings and the door slides open. House pokes Chase in the thigh with the handle of his cane.

"Time to move out, solider," he quips.

Chase closes his eyes for a few moments, giving House the distinct impression that the Australian would rather be coughing up blood in his bed than hanging around him, before walking unsteadily through the elevator doors and onto the street, followed by House, who actually catches up with ease.

"Think I could lap you in a race?" he jokes.

Chase doesn't laugh. Not really surprising. House limps towards his bike, trusting that Chase is still following, and grabs the single helmet. Chase can have that. He throws it to the other man, who misses it completely and it falls onto the pavement. House rolls his eyes up, then mounts the bike.

"Don't cough blood all over the inside of that," he grumbles. "I want to be able to wear that without being infected by your plague."

Chase bends down and picks up the helmet, pausing when he straightens up - House presumes that he's waiting for his vision to clear - before sitting on the back of the bike.

"Don't... crash," he warns House.

"Don't worry," House dismisses, putting on his sunglasses. "You're too pretty to die."

He pulls Chase's arms around his waist properly, feeling the young man's chest jerking against his back as he coughs again.

"Hold on tight."


	4. Beaver Woman

**Title:** You Leave Me Breathless

**Summary:** Chase hasn't shown up for his first day of work since his suspension ended. House is interested in exactly what is wrong. And when House is interested in something, or somebody, that somebody is not going to escape from him.

**Time Frame:** Between 'The Mistake' and 'Deception'

**Pairing:** Chase/House

**Author's Note:** And now we can get on with House being House at other people. Woo. Also, sorry about the HUGE delay. My laptop had the viruses, then I got banned from it permanently (unless in the living room), so I have not been writing. But I've started watching at least one episode of House religiously every night and will be writing again, oh yes indeed.

**Disclaimer:** Be forewarned of boy/boy. Sorry if it offends you, but I just can't help myself. Also, I do not have any ownership of House nor do I have permission to use the characters. I'm just doing it anyway, but I'm not profiting, so it all evens out. Thank you.

* * *

Having removed his helmet, Chase stumbles off the bike outside the hospital with a look on his face that clearly says that however cool the bike is, he is never going to get onto it again. Smothering a laugh, House dismounts from the bike and tucks his sunglasses into a pocket.

"Grow up," he calls. "It wasn't that bad."

Chase doesn't reply, merely gives him a look that says it all. House grabs his cane and limps after his employee. Stopping just behind Chase, he throws his cane straight up, catches it near the bottom and pushes the handle into the small of Chase's back.

"Come on," he orders. "Into the ER."

Chase automatically walks forwards (a cane to the back can do that to a person) and House, returning his cane to a more conventional holding position, follows once more. It's only as the pair of them actually enter the ER waiting room and people begin to stare that House realises that they must look quite odd: the half-naked, barefoot young man with blue lips and the cripple in biking leathers.

"Sorry, wrong nightclub," he says rather loudly.

Chase takes on a rather pained expression that House guesses has little to do with his chest (which the Vicodin should be helping to relieve by now) and a lot more to do with the fact that even more people are now staring at them. The administrator at the desk who is handing out forms to the patients-to-be glares at House in a most bad-tempered way. She has small round glasses, protuberant incisors and a pinched, rodent-like face. House mentally christens her Beaver Woman on the spot. Unfortunately, he has never seen her before, nor she him, and she is his only obstacle to getting Chase quickly and easily admitted.

Sometimes, the way things work out in life is a real kick in the balls.

House limps up to the desk. Beaver Woman thrusts a form towards him without even looking up, reciting in a bored monotone,

"Take the form, fill it I and wait for a nurse to see you."

"No can do. I need priority here."

"Just because you've got a bad leg-"

"It's not for me," House interrupts. "It's for wombat boy over there."

He jerks his head towards Chase, who sat down in an uncomfortable plastic chair a few paces away, struggling to look inconspicuous. He's shivering even though his hair is soaked with sweat. Beaver Woman gives him a quick glance, no more than a second, before returning to her computer screen where she appears to be buying stuff from eBay.

"I don't see anything wrong with him," she grumbles. "Fill in the form and wait for the nurse."

House, naturally, is outraged as only House can be. _Damn bureaucrats think they know everything these days._

"Oh yeah, he's perfectly fine," he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Human lips are normally the colour of Mentos."

"Oh, so you're a doctor now?" demands Beaver Woman, raising one eyebrow with incredulity and completely ignoring the point that House has just made.

"Look at him!" House practically yells. "Does he seriously look healthy to you?"

Beaver Woman tries to stare him down. Bad mistake.

"Have you ever heard of Doctor House?" he tries.

Beaver Woman nods, a look of something close to awe mixed with fear in her face. My, how his reputation spreads.

"Guess what? It's his opinion that he-" House jerks his head towards Chase again "-has acute pneumonia."

Before Beaver Woman say another word, somebody else does. A young woman.

"Excuse me, he needs help. Like, now."

House turns around, all thoughts of arguing with Beaver Woman gone. The young woman (non-descript brunette) is sitting on the edge of the seat next to Chase. Chase himself looks worse. His entire face has taken on a faintly bluish tinge. He has moved at some point during the argument, as he now has his feet up on the red plastic that he sits on and his knees drawn up into his chest, his forehead resting lightly on one knee. As House watches, the Australian begins to lean slightly to one side, away from the girl, and slowly falls limp onto the adjacent plastic seats. He doesn't move. He isn't breathing.


	5. Diagnosis

**Title:** You Leave Me Breathless

**Summary:** Chase hasn't shown up for his first day of work since his suspension ended. House is interested in exactly what is wrong. And when House is interested in something, or somebody, that somebody is not going to escape from him.

**Time Frame:** Between 'The Mistake' and 'Deception'

**Pairing:** Chase/House

**Author's Note:** This is an important note. I originally conceptualised having an extra chapter between this one and the last, but I just couldn't get it to work properly. I hope that this runs smoothly without it, but if it doesn't, please tell me and I'll work on adding it again. Personally I hate it, but that's just me. Also, I'm posting this so soon as an apology, so to speak. Also, I feel like a real bitch for giving you such a nasty cliffhanger XD

**Disclaimer:** Be forewarned of boy/boy. Sorry if it offends you, but I just can't help myself. Also, I do not have any ownership of House nor do I have permission to use the characters. I'm just doing it anyway, but I'm not profiting, so it all evens out. Thank you.

* * *

"The diagnosis has already been made!" House says irritably, pacing back and forth across the breadth of Cuddy's office. "Why do you need me?"

Cuddy, ample breasts peeking out of her blouse as usual, looks up from the folder on her desk.

"Because he's one of your people-"

"I won't be objective!"

"-and because you're the only department in this hospital that has only one other patient," Cuddy continues, ignoring House's interruption entirely. "And as if you give two craps about Chase anyway."

"I saved his life," House observes.

"Yeah, and I'm sure he's grateful for that, but unless you diagnose the source of the pneumonia, it'll have been for nothing," Cuddy observes. "Now go and... abuse your team, or whatever it is you do."

House limps out of Cuddy's office with mixed feelings on how that one went. On one hand, he got Cuddy to think that he didn't want the case. On the other, he left Cuddy feeling like she's won. His two great joys in life (deceiving Cuddy and beating Cuddy in arguments) are clashing and it bugs him. Oh well. Time to take it out on Cameron and Foreman.

One quick lift ride later House strolls into the Diagnostic Medicine office with a smug look on his face.

"I forget," he declares. "Who said that Chase is being pussy about flu? Because that is some _killer_ flu."

Nobody replies. House notices in the lapse that his words bring that the whiteboard has been split in, one side titled "Chase" with a list of symptoms and the other titled "Shani" with a different list of symptoms. Foreman is standing next to the whiteboard, presumably because he has been writing on it (the board, that is). Cameron is sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, her gaze flitting between House and Foreman as though she's watching a tennis match. Foreman looks exasperated at House's mere presence (House had almost perfected that art) but he also seemed somehow... smug. Not good.

"And who said that the kid has measles?" Foreman asks.

"Do you have any medical proof to back that up or are you try to one-up me?" House quips.

Cameron chips in, "Her fever's spiked to 105 degrees, she's been complaining of stomach pain and vomiting, and she's bleeding with very little cause."

"Ok, what about Chase?" House asks.

"It's... pneumonia," Cameron replies. "You already know that."

"Yes, but what's causing it?" House asks, limping to the board and relieving Foreman of the marker.

"Excuse me-" Foreman begins.

"My board, my marker."

Foreman raises his eyes in frustration, but says nothing. House uncaps the pen.

"So what causes pneumonia?" he asks.

"Shouldn't we be focussing on the little girl?" Cameron asks. "We haven't even diagnosed her yet, she could be dying."

"Could being the operative word," House observes. "Chase _is_ dying and we need to find out why. So what causes pneumonia?"

"Bacteria, viruses and fungi," Foreman recites. "It's pneumonia. Why do you care?"

"Because Cuddy says we have to," House summarises. "Which of these causes is more likely? Cameron?"

"Bacterial. Start him on azithromycin, clarithromycin and the fluoroquinolones," Cameron replies.

"So why are you still here?" House asks.

Foreman responds, "Because there is a little potentially dying girl who hasn't been diagnosed!"

"There's nothing we can do for her!" House snaps.

"And why's that?"

"Has she been out of the country in the last six months?" House demands.

Cameron checks in the medical notes.

"Her father's a missionary, they've been in and out of the country seventeen times in the last year," she reports. "And she's been to places like Africa, Asia and South America."

"Then she's got dengue hemorrhagic fever," House mutters. "Give her blood transfusions and wait for her to get better."

Foreman and Cameron stand up uncertainly.

"Wait!" House shouts. "I'll do Chase's meds. You two can do the blood transfusions together. Make sure that Cameron doesn't go all gooey over the sick kid."


	6. Brief Interlude

**Title:** You Leave Me Breathless

**Summary:** Chase hasn't shown up for his first day of work since his suspension ended. House is interested in exactly what is wrong. And when House is interested in something, or somebody, that somebody is not going to escape from him.

**Time Frame:** Between 'The Mistake' and 'Deception'

**Pairing:** Chase/House

**Author's Note:** I was slightly worried that Foreman and Cameron were coming off as... well, stupid, because they're missing things. So here's their side of the argument (as well as explaining some of the potential plotholes you wonderful, evil people have pointed out XD). Also, there is one more chapter left in the stores, but I don't know if there will be anything else soon. I have Chapter Seven to death... I'll post it tomorrow or something for you to tell me what you think, okay?

**Disclaimer:** Be forewarned of boy/boy. Sorry if it offends you, but I just can't help myself. Also, I do not have any ownership of House nor do I have permission to use the characters. I'm just doing it anyway, but I'm not profiting, so it all evens out. Thank you.

* * *

Foreman follows Cameron out of the room. Silence reigns between the two of them for all of eighteen seconds, between the Diagnostic Medicine office and the elevator. Then Foreman can keep his silence no longer. 

"How was I supposed to know that Chase was that sick?" he demands.

Cameron raises her eyebrows and says nothing.

"I mean, he sounded like crap on the phone, but I thought he was exaggerating, trying to get a day off," Foreman continues, still sounding more annoyed than anything else.

"I'm not saying anything," Cameron responds.

"And what was House _thinking_? Chase was unstable enough to go into respiratory arrest in the ER and House thought it was a good idea to bring him in on a _motorcycle_?"

"It's better than going into respiratory arrest on his living room floor, House didn't want to take the risk," Cameron argues.

Foreman shakes his head.

"There is absolutely nothing that that man can do to seriously piss you off, is there?"

Cameron doesn't reply, and the elevator door opens. The pair walk out into the corridor and along to Shani's room, where the dark-haired young girl lies in the hospital bed with an anxious father at her side. Andy Jordan, a youngish man with serious eyes and suspiciously nice teeth, stands up as Foreman and Cameron enter the room.

"Do you know what's wrong with Shani?" he demands, sounding both angry and afraid. "It's not measles, is it? Who said it was?"

Cameron says, "Doctor House diagnosed measles based on a brief look at your daughter's symptoms and, at that time, measles fitted as a diagnosis."

"Doctor House? Who's he?" Andy asks.

Foreman interrupts, "Doctor House is the Head of Diagnostic Medicine, he's wrapped up in another case right now-"

"Another case? My daughter is bleeding out of almost every orifice and this House is busy on _another case_?" Andy barely hisses, obviously trying not to let his daughter hear.

Foreman placates, "We can assure you that Doctor House is taking a very immediate interest in your daughter's case and we can tell you what we _think_ she has."

"What? What? What is it?"

Cameron, clinging to her clipboard like a life ring, takes a deep breath before continuing, "We think your daughter has something called dengue hemorrhagic fever. It's a progression of viral disease spread by mosquitoes that's common in parts of Africa, Asia and South and Central America. Normally it's not a serious condition. It's painful, but it clears up by itself after a certain amount of time. However, in some cases, there are complications."

"Cuh-complications? What sort of complications?"

"Your daughter is bleeding very easily, it's what haemorrhagic means. Unfortunately, there is little we can do except give her regular blood transfusions and wait for her body to heal itself. We need your permission to do that," Cameron finishes.

"Yes, that's fine. Do it, please, just make Shani better, do whatever you have to."

Cameron nods. She and Foreman turn and walk down the corridor, leaving Andy to stare with his serious gaze after her, his shoulders hanging helplessly. Cameron glances briefly at Foreman as they walk.

"How come House beat us to every diagnosis on this case?" she asks.

Foreman gives her a look.

"He beat us because he never gave us a chance to make a diagnosis," he says in annoyance. "He was all bothered about proving me wrong about Chase that he didn't give us a chance!"

"Proving you wrong. Sure. That's all House lives for," Cameron agrees, although rather sarcastically. "Let's concentrate on getting some blood into the kid before she kicks off."


	7. Ventilator

**Title:** You Leave Me Breathless

**Summary:** Chase hasn't shown up for his first day of work since his suspension ended. House is interested in exactly what is wrong. And when House is interested in something, or somebody, that somebody is not going to escape from him.

**Time Frame:** Between 'The Mistake' and 'Deception'

**Pairing:** Chase/House

**Author's Note:** And now House gets to talk to Chase. My medical information may possibly be off here, but I am only a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl with the Internet. Anyway, it helps the plot along. Heh, heh... Also, this is the Hated Chapter. Actually, it's the second if you include that chapter I cut out earlier. Anyway! If you hate this, don't feel shy about telling me. I hate it. If you like it, I'll scream and hop about like a loon. I'll make a special effort to write some more, but I haven't written anything since the last update...

**Disclaimer:** Be forewarned of boy/boy. Sorry if it offends you, but I just can't help myself. Also, I do not have any ownership of House nor do I have permission to use the characters. I'm just doing it anyway, but I'm not profiting, so it all evens out. Thank you.

* * *

House pauses outside Chase's room in the ICU. Chase is hooked up to a ventilator inside, carefully dosed on Ativan and looking like shit. House has never seen Chase look so bad. Not even that time when he came in very hung-over on a Monday morning. His lips, from what House can see, are still cyanotic; his face is nearly chalk-white; and he just looks so damn... _small_. As though the illness in his lungs is eating him away from the inside out. House grabs his Vicodin pot and takes two pills. This is going to be hard. He's going to have to do all the work, for one thing - big mechanical tubes do not a talkative person make. And also, he feels... oddly responsible. If it wasn't for him, Chase wouldn't be here. Sure, he'd probably be dead in his flat if House hadn't done anything, but it still bothered him somehow.

Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation was fun, though. Oh yes. Chase definitely has the softest lips of any male that House has ever met.

And he though Chase couldn't get more girly.

With that upbeat thought in mind and the promise of a Vicodin buzz in a short time, House pushes open the door.

Chase opens his eyes and looks over at House. Even his eyes look pale and washed out, a sort of pale turquoise than their normal lively green-blue.

"You," House declares, "are an idiot."

Chase, for obvious reasons, doesn't reply. He just stares at House, looking rather tired.

"What sort of lunatic stays at home in bed when their lungs start crackling?"

No reaction. Time to move on.

"So what've you been doing to get pneumonia? Blink twice when I get the right answer. Sex?"

Nothing.

"Okay, no sex. Shall I get the magic 8 ball?"

Chase gives him "The Look". House rolls his eyes.

"Just because the 8 ball disagreed with you a couple of times."

Chase raises his eyebrows in disbelief.

"But you're seriously suggesting that you had no sex during your suspension?" House asks.

Chase stares him down. No blinking.

"Any dates?"

There's a pause, but then Chase blinks twice.

"Any pneumonia symptoms?"

Nothing.

"Damn this is hard," House grumbles. "When can we take the tube out?"

Chase rolls his eyes, then coughs around the tracheal tube.

"Okay then. We're gonna give you antibiotics to knock the bacteria on their asses and some more Ativan to keep you nice and conforming," House says, pulling his wide-eyed diagnostic expression. "Of course if you're lying and it's not bacterial pneumonia, it'll kill you. Oh well."

He turns to leave the room when he hears a thudding noise. He turns back to find Chase thumping the side of the bed.

"What?"

Chase points to his chest, then the trach tube.

"I don't understand sign language of illiterates," House quips.

Chase rolls his eyes again. It's a wonder that they're staying in his head.

"But," House continues, "I can guess that you're asking why we don't take a sample and try to grow the bacterium or virus or fungus or whatever else could cause pneumonia. Is there anything else? Well, by the time they come through you'll probably be too sick for whatever we treat you with to work."

This is Serious House. Chase looks down - why? Embarrassment? Worry? Guilt?

"So. We're going to treat, and if that doesn't work we'll try some anti-fungals and if they don't work, we're in deep trouble."

Chase blinks twice. House nods.

"Just for the record, we're giving you azithromycin, clarithromycin and the fluoroquinolones. Allergic to any of those?"

Chase doesn't blink. House nods again.

"Okay then. I'll be giving you your meds, then I'll be going."

House switches over the IV bags as Chase watches.

"I'm not gonna screw up. I went to med school too, you know."

Chase smiles. For some reason, it makes House want to smile inside. He blinks it off and limps towards the door. At the door he pauses and turns around again.

"By the way," he says, as though as an afterthought. "What lip balm do you use? I've always wanted silky smooth lips like that."

And House disappears through the door before Chase can even react.


	8. Mooning Over

**Title:** You Leave Me Breathless

**Summary:** Chase hasn't shown up for his first day of work since his suspension ended. House is interested in exactly what is wrong. And when House is interested in something, or somebody, that somebody is not going to escape from him.

**Time Frame:** Between 'The Mistake' and 'Deception'

**Pairing:** Chase/House

**Author's Note:** Since adopting Cuddy as one of my muses, I've gotten to work a bit more. Rather scary, but still. I wrote this over the last two days, really. And for all of those who wanted some reaction from Chase, I broke my "House's view only" rule for the second time (first time was the Cameron and Foreman chapter) to give you a little taste of Chase. You know you love it.

**Disclaimer:** Be forewarned of boy/boy. Sorry if it offends you, but I just can't help myself. Also, I do not have any ownership of House nor do I have permission to use the characters. I'm just doing it anyway, but I'm not profiting, so it all evens out. Thank you.

* * *

_What the hell? Lip balm? I do not use lip balm! If I didn't have a trach tube in... Dammit. How the hell does House know what my lips feel like anyway? He didn't have to give me mouth-to-mouth, oh God no... and in public? Oh hell._

_And why did I have to be unconscious for that?_

_Bad thoughts! Shut up, shut up! He's not interested, he's not interested..._

_God damn I feel like shit._

- - - - -

Back in his office, House leans back in his chair, "Baba O'Riley" blaring through the headphones of his I-Pod. Normally, he would be playing 'air piano', 'air drums' and various other air instruments along to this track, but not today. House is thinking. The clock says that it's almost midday; he has been there since 11:14 am. Cameron tried to speak to him earlier, but he sent her away with a look that meant business. She hasn't come back. House has barely noticed. Now, he pulls his headphones out of his ears and sighs. Chase has been playing on his mind. And the other patient, the kid, what's-her-name. Something beginning with "S"? Never mind, not important. The important point is that there's something pretty creepy about how similar the cases are. With the whole misdiagnosis as a more common disease thing. Bizarre, right?

House looks up to see Cameron waiting outside. Apparently, she's finally decided to brave his evil looks. She definitely has her "Determined Little Madam" face on. House sighs. Can he really be bothered to listen to what she has to say? He stares at her as she approaches the door; she doesn't back down. Seems like he doesn't have a choice. She opens the door.

"Shouldn't you be taking an interest in _both_ our patients?" she demands before he can get a word in.

"Should I?" House gives her a faux quizzical look as he grabs his lacrosse ball.

"Yes!" Cameron snaps. "That little girl is very sick and her father needs to know that she's in safe hands!"

"None safer than Foreman's, right?" House asks, tossing his lacrosse ball from hand to hand. "Or was that none stickier?"

"House, I'm serious! Could you stop mooning over Chase for five minutes to pay attention to this girl?"

Cameron covers her mouth with one hand, her cheeks flushed pink. House puts the ball down, staring at her.

"What... did you say?" he asks quietly.

"Uh, that you were mooning over... I'll just go," Cameron mumbles hesitantly after lowering her hand. She turns around and walks towards the door. Just before she leaves, House speaks again, his voice slightly louder but still serious.

"I'll drop in on the kid later."

"Right," Cameron says as quickly as possible before disappearing through the door.

_Mooning over Chase_... He is so _not_ "mooning" over Chase! What does that mean anyway? Showing off his ass? House leans over to his computer and dives into the mine of information commonly known as the Internet.

"Mooning," he mutters out loud. "To romantically pine for. Weird."

Weird for Cameron to use such an old-fashioned phrase - although it does suit her. Weird that she thinks he's pining for Chase. Weird how much he's considering the case. Weird all around. House inserts his headphones back into his ears, switches on "Baba O'Riley" and reaches for his lacrosse ball. He'll stay here until lunchtime, then go and see What's-Her-Name the kid.

He is so _not_ romantically pining for Chase.

Maybe Wilson will pay for lunch. That'd be cool. Where the hell is Wilson anyway? Maybe he should find Wilson first.

Nah. Music's better.

He's _not_ mooning over Chase.


	9. Wilson

**Title:** You Leave Me Breathless

**Summary:** Chase hasn't shown up for his first day of work since his suspension ended. House is interested in exactly what is wrong. And when House is interested in something, or somebody, that somebody is not going to escape from him.

**Time Frame:** Between 'The Mistake' and 'Deception'

**Pairing:** Chase/House

**Author's Note:** ...feel free to hit me now. Yes, I'm a lazy bitch. And I had writer's block. Two quick points about this chapter. One: I'm not sure how much it would cost to buy lunch for two at a hospital canteen. I guessed at fifteen dollars, but please correct me if I'm wrong. Two: This is the comic relief chapter, I suppose. Wilson used as comic relief - bizarre.

**Disclaimer:** Be forewarned of boy/boy. Sorry if it offends you, but I just can't help myself. Also, I do not have any ownership of House nor do I have permission to use the characters. I'm just doing it anyway, but I'm not profiting, so it all evens out. Thank you.

* * *

Wilson is already in the queue when House reaches the cafeteria. House does what he does best in these situations; he limps over as quickly as physically possible and cuts in line in front of his friend, who closes his eyes briefly and takes a very deep breath but doesn't say a word. House sticks out his lower lip and arranges his features into a pathetic expression vaguely reminiscent of a puppy.

Wilson says, "I'm not saying anything."

"But you just said something."

"Your logic is flawless."

"You're paying."

There's a short but not uncomfortable lull in the conversation, silence broken only by background babble and the sound of trays scraping along the surface. Then Wilson speaks.

"So how's your patient?"

"Signing illiterately and on a ventilator. How are the little bald dying kids?" House shoots back.

"Well, actually, I meant your _other_ patient. The one who _isn't_ Chase."

"Little Miss Bleeding-From-Every-Orifice? Dengue hemorrhagic fever. She'll be fine," House says without sounding very interested. "Chase, on the other hand..."

He trails off, not keen on the idea of Chase dying on him. After all, it would seriously put new fellows off.

"_Previous position holder died under team's care."_

And... well, stuff. Wilson, seeming to almost sense his mood, makes a dismissive noise.

"Chase is gonna be fine," he says reassuringly. "Unlike you, when he finds out you kissed him."

"In my defence, it was the Kiss of Life," House observes. "And he knows."

"How?"

House doesn't answer immediately, as he's rather distracted by pushing his tray as close to the tray of the person in front as possible. The doctor glares at him, pushing her glasses up her nose, before turning away to pay for her lunch. He gives her back a look of would-be innocence.

"I told him. More importantly, how do you know?"

"The nurses told me."

"And how do the nurses know?" House persists.

"They were told by Beaver Woman from the ER. Honestly, House, Beaver Woman?"

"It was the teeth! How could you _not_ see it?"

The cafeteria worker on the cash register invades the conversation with a cheery:

"Together or separate?"

"Together," House chips in before Wilson has a chance to open his mouth. Wilson, for his part, looks exasperated as his irascible friend gives him an unreadable look and limps off to find a table, glowing with triumph. Fifteen dollars later, Wilson joins him.

Concentrating on his reuben, House says, "So. What are the rumours saying, O Lord of the Gossip?"

Wilson affects an overly dramatic tone.

" 'That cute British doc just passed out in the ER! And that Doctor House just took advantage, using mouth-to-mouth as an excuse to molest that poor kid' - incidentally, these nurses were younger than him - 'and he only stopped when Doctor Cuddy came' - oh grow up!"

House had snorted with laughter around a mouthful of sandwich, but his expression is now one of the complete and utter innocence. Wilson does not look convinced.

"Well anyway, you're universally condemned as a lecher and a perv," he finishes, somewhat put-out.

House swallows and is about to make some sarcastic remark when his pager starts to beep like crazy. Damn, right in the middle of lunch. Deciding that he'd have to kill somebody with a plastic fork if it was Cuddy telling him to go to clinic, he gropes for his pager and pulls the infernal thing off his belt.

'_Shani Jordan. Code Blue._'

_Crap!_

"What is it?" Wilson asks concernedly, then adds in a more jovial tone, "Or are you faking a page to escape the conversation again?"

"Little Miss Bleeding-From-Every-Orifice is dying," House replies.

He stands up and limps at record speed for the elevator.


End file.
